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He smiled.
“What are you looking at?” Lewis growled, fighting to control her shaking body.
“I’m impressed,” Flex grunted. “I’ve seen SAS soldiers piss themselves when they’ve gone through that.”
“That’s because you’re all a bunch of pussies!” Lewis braced herself against the expected reprisal.
None came.
“I need you alive,” Flex explained. “I need you to deliver a message to Jack Morgan.”
“What is it?” she asked cautiously.
“This.”
And then the punch did come.
Chapter 58
“I’M PUTTING HER down,” the pilot announced over the helicopter’s internal comms, pointing to a patch of green amidst the city below them—it was Holland Park, the nearest clearing to Patel’s Kensington home.
“Anything from the CCTV taps?” Knight asked Morgan as they dropped toward the ground, their stomachs lifting.
“Nothing useful.”
“So what’s our plan?”
Morgan didn’t answer. Instead, as the helicopter’s skids touched down onto the grass, Morgan threw back the door and ran.
Knight tried to stay on his heels, but the American was faster, the desire for revenge driving him on to a pace that Knight simply couldn’t match. As their shoes beat the tarmac of Kensington’s pavements, Knight began to fall behind. Only Morgan’s occasional slowing to check his phone’s map allowed Private London’s leader to keep him in sight. Knight had no need for his own map—he recognized the area by sight. He knew they were drawing closer, and was relieved to see Morgan pull up short of Patel’s street.
“We can’t just sprint in there, Jack,” Knight panted as he caught up. “They’ll kill Lewis, and then us.”
“We’re not going in anywhere.” Morgan looked down the street.
Knight followed the direction of Morgan’s gaze, and he saw the reason why.
Patel’s home was surrounded by police.
Chapter 59
“I TOLD YOU not to call the police!” Morgan shouted at Knight, seeing their chance to slip inside and rescue Lewis disappear.
“I didn’t,” Knight protested. “Honestly, Jack, this wasn’t me. But look, the way that they’re set up. This isn’t a siege.”
Morgan looked to the police cordon. The uniformed officers were facing outward, not in.
“None of them are in cover,” Morgan realized. “They’re not afraid of getting shot.”
“Flex is gone,” Knight said, the words barely out of his mouth before Morgan was again sprinting, this time toward the police.
“Who’s in charge?” he called to the nearest uniform, the officer raising an eyebrow at Morgan’s American accent.
“Please stay away from the cordon, sir,” the young PC said in reply.
“I need to know who’s in charge!” Morgan asserted. “My people were inside that house! I need to get in there!”
“Sir, please stay calm.”
